The banquet had ended, and guests dispersed. In the chill of the spring night, only the distant caw of crows could be heard—otherwise, silence.
Sui Sui lifted her head, staring blankly at Li Chongjun, weakly searching for an excuse: “Yiyi, she—”
“Yiyi is what *you* call her!”
Seeing his expression grow harsher, Sui Sui wisely fell silent. But his grip only tightened, pinching her jaw painfully as he pressed: “How did you know—”
She hurried to explain: “That day, when serving Your Highness on the couch, I happened to glimpse it—the handkerchief under the pillow. Surely it belonged to someone dear to Your Highness…”
He raised a brow: “You can read that character?”
Sui Sui couldn’t betray her little master-uncle, so she simply nodded.
Li Chongjun said no more. He withdrew his hand, slowly wiping it, studying her like an executioner weighing a prisoner’s neck. Sui Sui avoided his gaze. She was still troubled.
Even Miss Yi hadn’t restrained him; Miss Yang had no chance at all. Perhaps that drunken night had given him a taste, and he realized that guarding chastity like a monk was pointless—better to go all the way.
She found no solution, only sighed quietly. Then she reached up to remove her golden coronet. It was too heavy, pulling painfully at her hair. If this was the final barrier before her freedom, then she was willing.
Sui Sui was never one for coyness. Sorrow, shyness—those were ornaments of noble ladies’ lives, like jasmine blossoms embroidered on golden screens, left for scholars to dream of in poetry. She was not worthy of such things.
The attendants had already slipped away. Without needing Li Chongjun’s command, Sui Sui undressed herself, leaving only her breast wrap and underpants. Seeing him watch coldly, she suddenly smiled, deliberately climbed onto the couch, and reached to hook his neck.
“Your Highness, pity me—be gentle later—” She had barely spoken half a coquettish line when Li Chongjun suddenly seized her, dragging her against the green porcelain screen at the bedhead.
“Ah—Your Highness!” Sui Sui cried out in shock, instinctively struggling, but he pinned her with one hand, while the other tore at her trousers. The sound of silk ripping echoed through the empty hall, loud and terrifying.
“Mm—cold, so cold—” Without her clothes, her skin pressed against the screen, icy enough to make her cry out. But then came the heat—Li Chongjun had shed his robe and pressed against her.
Sui Sui’s knees buckled. From the start, it hurt.
“Ah—no, it won’t work—” Sui Sui cried out in pain, but Li Chongjun ignored her. His body was like a tempered blade, forcing a path through her.
No, this wasn’t right. Though eccentric, he had never been so rough, so out of control. Fear gripped her; she abandoned all pretense of coquettishness, twisting desperately to break free—yet he forced himself deeper.
“Ah—ah—”
The pain was unbearable, stealing her breath. She struggled frantically, and when he pulled her shoulder into his embrace, she wrenched her hand free with all her strength. Turning, she still collided into his chest.
Li Chongjun was panting now, his cheeks flushed, grappling with her body, trying to pin her beneath him.
Sui Sui was near tears: “No, it can’t be like this! It won’t—it won’t go in this way!”
Her words startled him. In that moment of distraction, the tassel of her golden hairpin scraped across his neck. It hooked the skin, and blood flowed instantly.
He froze, uncertain, then suddenly released her, collapsing against the railing. He wiped his neck, glanced at the blood on his hand, but did nothing—only turned aside, breathing heavily.
Sui Sui, thrown onto the couch, looked up and saw his wound. Her heart turned cold with dread.
Body and skin are gifts from one’s parents; his body was the emperor’s gift. Even a small cut could cost her life. Terrified, she searched the bed for a towel, hurriedly offered it, and stammered: “Your Highness… I—I didn’t mean it…”
He ignored her. His dark, sinister expression silenced her. In the lamplight, his chest rose and fell violently, muscles sharply defined. Something was wrong with him tonight. She feared he might order her death with a single word. Desperate to appease him, she recalled tricks she had seen elder sisters use in the theater. Hardening her resolve, she crawled forward. Her slender neck bent low, silently bowing.
Li Chongjun felt sudden warmth below. Looking down, he saw Sui Sui kneeling before him, hands holding him, like a kitten drinking milk—licking, pausing, licking again.
For Sui Sui, it was her first time. She lifted her eyes to meet his. Seeing that he did not stop her, his face expressionless, she grew anxious and increased her effort. Heat surged through his body, but the fire in his heart burned hotter.
Actresses often sold their bodies. Raised in the troupe, she had performed erotic plays vividly. He had investigated her past, knew the broad strokes, but not the details.
At first, he hadn’t cared to know. Later, he hadn’t dared. But now, all those shadows replayed vividly in his mind. How could he have let his heart be moved by such a woman?
He looked at her coldly. Her rouge was smeared with sweat, her face and eyelids marked red from their struggle. She was not bold as on stage—her brows furrowed, her fox-like eyes brimming with tears.
Was this also an act? Pretending weakness to win pity, just as she always feigned devotion? She didn’t love him, yet could still obey sweetly. To her, he was nothing more than a patron.
Li Chongjun clenched his teeth, suppressing his impulse. He forced himself to ask, as if torturing himself: “Before… were you like this too?”
Sui Sui faltered: “Ah?… Like what?”
“With those men.”
Her mouth couldn’t close; saliva spilled as she tried to speak. His half-phrases were maddening, but she dared not show it. She asked carefully: “Your Highness… what men?”
Unexpectedly, he suddenly rose, shoved her onto the bed, and pressed over her. His arms braced on either side of her face, his black eyes gleaming like a wolf’s in the shadows. His lips hovered near her trembling eyelids—almost a kiss, but not, only his breath hot against her skin.
He sneered softly, like an interrogation: “Those men who paid for you.”